


Trust Me

by illyriantremors



Series: ACOTAR Rhys POVs [5]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Gen, Rhys POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 01:29:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7598149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illyriantremors/pseuds/illyriantremors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhys POV during Chapter 40 of ACOTAR when Feyre has her Second Trial Under the Mountain. Beware spoilers from the second book ACOMAF!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust Me

For the first time in a long while, I didn’t know what was coming.

Feyre stood in the middle of the cramped room surrounded on all sides by Amarantha and her filth like a pack of rabid wolves waiting to be unleashed. When the floor quaked and Feyre began to sink ever lower into the ground, I was nervous with anticipation and questions. The only sure thought in my mind was the fear that I wouldn’t see her ascend back up.

I swallowed, willing my fear away so that I could be strong. For her, I had to be. I had vowed she would win and I wasn’t one to break a promise.

“Lucien.”

Feyre’s voice was a trembling gasp as she took in the Fox across the cell from her, a ragged metal gate separating them. She wanted to cross it, was even contemplating climbing it to reach her friend, but my eyes went straight for the opposite wall where three levers marked I, II, & III and an inscription on the wall sat in wait for their prey.

“Here, Feyre darling, you shall find your task,” Amarantha called. She stood at the edge of the pit much like she had when she sat to watch Feyre battle the Middengard Wyrm. Tamlin stood behind her with a hard look in his expression. I was tempted to punch him just to give Feyre a new expression to see on his face whenever she stared at him hoping for some kind of comfort.

“Simply answer the question by selecting the correct lever, and you’ll win,” Amarantha continued. “Select the wrong one to your doom. As there are only three options, I think I gave you an unfair advantage.” With a quick click of her fingers, the ceiling shuddered and twin sets of twisting blades began their descent from the chandeliers above the pit. “That is, if you can solve the puzzle in time.”

My stomach roiled as collectively, the three of us at stake in this trial realized the fate awaiting Feyre and Lucien in the pit should Feyre answer incorrectly.

My eyes scanned the riddle. It was lengthy and overly wordy, undoubtedly meant to stump Feyre’s supposedly simplistic human logic. That bitch wouldn’t let her breathe for one second in this hell mouth. The puzzle itself wasn’t challenging at its core, though. Strip away the dramatics and it was fairly straightforward. I had it worked out in less than a minute and knew that even if Feyre took longer, she could solve it quickly too.

Only, Feyre wasn’t concentrating. She shook as she stared open mouthed at the wall, her brow furrowed and already dripping in sweat, something I hadn’t expected of her despite the looming blades. Neither, apparently, had Amarantha.

“Something wrong?” Amarantha asked sounding genuinely curious.

Feyre didn’t reply. I opened myself up to her and could feel her blood pounding in her veins - my veins. Her mind was focused on nothing but the fear that had begun to cripple her, the saws that moved above her and Lucien’s head. I tried to reach her thoughts, but they had whirred together in such a blur that I was surprised to find I couldn’t crack through her mind’s barriers.

After several agonizing seconds in which I debated what to do, Lucien cried out, “Answer it!” He thrashed about on the floor shaking the chains with what strength Amarantha had returned to him and drawing Feyre’s attention away from where it should have been. “Feyre!”

Feyre continued to shake, but her mind went back to the wall where she remained unmoving from answering. I was beyond comprehension. Surely the Middengard Wyrm was a far mightier fear to face than a puzzle she was more than capable of solving? Yet, she looked so terrified, as if each word were a punishment. A small kernel of desperation rooted itself in my empty stomach betraying my hidden panic.

But then her mind slowed down as she made herself try to concentrate on the puzzle and suddenly, breaking in was easy. I leaned against her thoughts with the slightest touch and was in. The rush of emotions and words I had anticipated was a far cry from the sluggish churn I found hiding in her mind as she struggled with each word on the wall. Every syllable cried out in pain and it took her a complete minute to finish five words and even then I don’t think she knew what she’d read.

She can’t read… I realized, holding back a gasp of surprise. She hadn’t been paralyzed with fear of the blades at her head or the screams from Lucien. No, Feyre was freaking out because she was doomed to fail this trial from the start! And Amarantha did not know, she couldn’t have or this would be taking a far worse turn than it had.

Slowly with each word she tried and failed to read, I felt Feyre give up. My stomach dropped as her focus on the words stopped entirely and turned towards Tamlin, Tamlin standing on the edges of the pit watching her with no love or real emotion in his eyes. Even Lucien had cried out to save Feyre from the Middengard Wyrm. What had Tamlin offered her in the way of help beyond his mere existence? And now Feyre stood thinking of him, wishing to say her goodbyes because she knew she would die and wanted him to be her last thought.

I gutted me. I was drenched with anger and grief all over again, my now constant companions.

“Just pick one!” Lucien shouted. The spiked blades were close, too close. She had to choose or it would really be over. I looked at Tamlin and gave him half a second to do something - anything that might help Feyre win and when he remained inert, I acted without hesitation as Feyre’s hand made to pull the middle lever.

A wave of intense pain coursed through the bond between us, a bond Feyre hadn’t yet realized we shared. Her hand jerked back and I wondered if Amarantha would notice as Feyre looked at the narrowing eye staring up at her from her palm. Confused, she tried to reach the first lever and again, I sent pain coursing down the bond. But when she touched upon the third lever - the one I knew would save her - I gave her a silent approval.

Her head darted up at the silence, her eyes rushing to find me through the grate that had lowered enough to separate us physically now and she found me with stars in my eyes waiting for her.

That’s right, I thought to myself. Me. If Tamlin won’t be your rock in this, I will.

She continued to stare at me as she tried the first lever again and I doused her in more pain. I grew bored on my face, letting her see my ruse and I knew she understood.

“Feyre, please!” Lucien moaned against the backdrop of his smirking, snarling brothers who delighted in his pain. His parents were noticeably absent. In my heart, I pitied him, maybe for the first time ever.

And then all was silent.

Feyre stood, the third lever lowered before her, as the chandelier spikes retreated. I meant to release my held breath, relieved and proud that she had trusted me enough to survive, but then I saw Feyre collapse in a heaping puddle on the ground, tears spilling over her face.

No, no, no, no, no, no!

I crossed my arms, clenching my fists whilst trying to maintain my dull expression even as my heart ached for her. She couldn’t falter now. If Amarantha saw her weakness coming out of that pit, we’d be doomed. Whatever cruel words she would say to Feyre if she realized she was on the verge of cracking could be enough to undo her.

And again, Tamlin did nothing.

Don’t let her see you cry, I said into the bond. It was a command, not a request, meant to inspire, not to soothe. Put your hands at your sides and stand up.

Feyre didn’t budge and it took every ounce of restraint in me not to jump into the pit and pull her up myself.

Stand. Don’t give her the satisfaction of seeing you break.

I said it mercilessly knowing how unrelenting my voice in her mind must sound to her, but it worked. Slowly, she stood and managed to turn with a clean face towards Amarantha just as the floor put her back on our level.

Good, I said trying to send confidence into my words, words Tamlin should have been trying to send her. Stare her down. No tears - wait until you’re back in your cell. Count to ten. Don’t look at Tamlin. Just stare at her.

Feyre latched on to my words with an iron grip. Her body longed to shudder, to cry out in so much pain as Lucien had been allowed to do, but she snatched at me instead and every word I offered to keep her from going insane. A pressure lifted off my chest at every reach she made for me. She could hate me, but she now trusted me and it was worth every second we had spent under this damn mountain.

Good girl, I said when the ten seconds were up. Now walk away. Turn on your heel - good. Walk toward the door. Keep your chin high. Let the crowd part. One step after another.

Feyre obeyed every command. She was a perfect actress despite the impossible torment she felt. Anyone else would have died long ago just looking at Amarantha the day the Attor would have dragged them here. But not my Feyre.

My words trailed her all the way back to her cell as the guards carried her and then when I knew she was safe, I released my grip and was silent.

“Still weeping?”

It was torture waiting all those hours to go to Feyre after her trial, but the second I knew I could leave without arousing suspicion, I flew to her. She was crumpled on the floor still crying and replaying the trial over and over in her mind. I’d listened to her every hour between then and now and knew her descent into madness had begun. It scared me beyond reason. I had only two weapons in my arsenal with which to save her: darkness and more cruelty.

“You’ve just beaten her second task,” I said after flooding the room with soft, starry night. “Tears are unnecessary.”

Feyre sobbed harder into her hands and I laughed, but inside I was dying.

I grabbed her hands away from her face and held them in a tight grip. Her eyes widened as she took in the darkened room and I was pleased to note she didn’t look scared at my offered distraction. And then she found my gaze watching her and something illuminated within me. I moved wanting so badly to kiss her lips and taste her pain, to mix it with my own, but I settled for her cheeks instead.

Feyre froze. Salt stung my tongue as I caressed each part of her skin where the tears burned. I took my time enjoying the heat on my lips as I found new parts of her to savor. Her body relaxed against me before starting to shake, to tremble with the tiniest bit of enjoyment at being so cared for after the absence of it. Greedily, I licked her skin with the tip of my tongue more, more, more no longer really searching for salty tears alone. The man who swore on Fire Night never to think of this woman again should it cost him his life - Cauldron damn me, that man was gone.

As fast as it had started, it was over and I longed for the moment to return. I chuckled as Feyre scrambled away from me, a look of disgust trying to mask the melange of thoughts twisting her in head.

“I figured that would get you to stop crying,” I said.

“It was disgusting,” she said trying to clean her face of where I’d tasted her. Her body wrote a different story for me.

“Was it?” I pointed at the tattoo where our bond now rested. “Beneath all your pride and stubbornness, I could have sworn I detected something that felt differently. Interesting.”

“Get out.”

Ah, I breathed. My fighter. There she was.

“As usual, your gratitude is overwhelming.”

“Do you want me to kiss your feet for what you did at the trial? Do you want me to offer another week of my life?”

If only she knew.

“Not unless you feel compelled to do so. Who would have thought that the self-righteous human girl couldn’t read?”

“Keep your damned mouth shut about it,” Feyre spat, she was so furious with me in such a hurry. But I was having too much fun baiting her, pulling her out of the pit, to stop now. I needed to know she would be okay even if only for tonight before I could leave.

“Me? I wouldn’t dream of telling anyone. Why waste that kind of knowledge on petty gossip?”

“You’re a disgusting bastard.”

“I’ll have to ask Tamlin if this kind of flattery won his heart.” I gave her a grin and stood. “I’ll spare you the escort duties tomorrow, but the night after, I expect you to be looking your finest.” I had almost left when a final wicked comment rose to my lips and I let it out, my grin growing wider. “I’ve been thinking of ways to torment you when you come to my court. I’m wondering: Will assigning you to learn to read be as painful as it looked today?”

I had just felt her nerves connect with the impulse to pounce at me when I winnowed away. For several hours, her anger burned through the bond threatening to set my flesh on fire. The trial, Amarantha, Lucien, Tamlin… all of the anguish today had caused her disappeared when I left her cell, replaced by her hatred of me. And for the first time, I was happy to receive her disapproval. If I kept her from slipping over the edge in any way, it was worth it.

But even as I lie awake in my own room feeling Feyre fall asleep with a subtle peace about her now that her body could forget the day, I knew it was temporary. The calm before the storm. Tomorrow, the pain would return fresh with wakening as it did each morning for me and I would soon discover how far down into the pit of depression Feyre would fall, how far down she would take me with her.

I only hoped I was strong enough to fly us both out.

xx


End file.
